


A slap on the wrist

by KardiaB



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: BAMF John Watson, Gen, Mention of spanking, Misbehaviour, Punishment, Time-out, Unsure Sherlock, fatherly John Watson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-15
Updated: 2018-10-18
Packaged: 2019-08-02 14:36:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16307042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KardiaB/pseuds/KardiaB
Summary: John Watson is done with apologising on Sherlock's behalf when Sherlock is rude to Lestrade, yet again. And Sherlock will have to start behaving of feel the consequences for misbehaving.





	1. A slap on the wrist

Lestrade’s mouth hung open, Sherlock was shocked and John was beyond angry with the consulting detective.

At least there was no one else in the room as Sherlock had closed the door in Anderson’s face again after calling him names not fit for polite society. But when he started his rant at Lestrade and his cheating wife John had snapped.

Honestly unexpected for all three of them, John had grabbed Sherlock’s wrist and delivered a sounding smack to the back of his hand.

“Apologise”, John growled and one look at the Doctor’s angry posture convinced him to better go along with his friend’s wishes without arguing for once.

“I’m sorry”, he mumbled chastised and still trying to comprehend what was happening here.  
His left hand stung and he rubbed it with the other, while John grabbed his arm firmly and dragged him out of the building leaving a thoroughly confused Lestrade behind.

“John?” Sherlock asked as soon as they had left the police line behind them, John still dragging him along.

“No Sherlock, no”, John blocked Sherlock’s path and came to a sudden halt in front of him.  
“I’m done apologising for your behaviour. You were utterly rude and disrespectful to Greg and I will no longer stand for it.”

“Are you leaving me?” Sherlock asked shocked taking a step backwards.

“What? Of course not you prat. I will correct your behaviour. Something I should have done long ago.”

“I’m not a child.” Sherlock said affronted, but it came out more petulant then he had aimed for.

“You sure as hell act like one and I will treat you accordingly until you realise that words can hurt, too.” John grabbed his arm again and dragged Sherlock with him to the main road, ignoring his curses and pleas to release him. 

Flagging down the first empty taxi he pushed Sherlock in first and told the driver their address, taking his seat in silence and ignoring Sherlock for the rest of the ride.

Having exhausted all valid arguments and a few less so against John’s acting and being ignored, Sherlock fell silent halfway through the ride. He wasn’t used to the silent treatment John was giving him. Normally he enjoyed his undivided attention or the verbal sparring that John called fighting. Had he gone too far?

He replayed the scene in his mind. Watching the moment when his words had hit Lestrade and his posture changed to sad and defensive a second before John’s followed and he actually acted to defend his friend, against Sherlock. 

Well, it might not have been the nicest thing to say and when he was honest with himself some of it wasn’t even true. There was no more loyal and hardworking man than Lestrade and he really didn’t deserve his wife’s treatment.  
Sherlock really should have seen it coming. Thinking back he could recall all the subtle changes he had ignored at the time. It really had started from the very beginning. 

Even as he barely knew John he had looked to him for morale guidance, craving his approval and bathing in his praise.

The newly met Dr. John Watson saved his life by shooting the cabby and then calling him an idiot. They had laughed about it at the time until John sat him down in their flat to get the details about the case for his blog.

As Sherlock narrated John’s posture had shifted. He sat up straighter and his right hand got tense as Sherlock told him about how he got into the cab, his breathing got deeper and controlled when he came to the part with the fake gun and the pills.

But John had kept quiet, still full of praise for Sherlock’s deductions.

Sherlock had been called a child in “A Study in Pink”, but had ignored the obvious then as well, focusing rather on being called ignorant for his lack of useless knowledge.

Sherlock buried his face in his hands as his mind provided all kinds of proof for their already existing relationship as father and child. All the times John had scolded him for bratty behaviour, tidied up after him, and took care of everything household. He remembered the times John had praised him for clever deductions, his violin play and many little things that had pleased him. He often bought his favourite food afterwards and made sure they were always stocked on biscuits when Sherlock didn’t feel like eating real food.

And how often did John apologise on his behalf? Often, he realised.

A nudge on the side brought him back from his mind palace.

“Sherlock, are you all right?” John looked at him expectantly. The cab was paid for and they had to leave.

“Fine, I’m fine.” He hurried out of the car and went to open the door to 221b, leaving John to follow behind. Sherlock went straight to his room, closing the door forcefully.

John sighed as he went to the kitchen. Sherlock was in one of his stroppy moods again, justified this time, but that would mean, that he wouldn’t come out for dinner. He went to prepare tea for himself and looked through the fridge for something eatable.

\---

It was five o’clock in the afternoon the next day when Sherlock emerged from his self-imposed prison only dressed in slacks, t-shirt, and his dressing gown and went straight to his violin. He ignored John who sat in his chair by the cold fireplace reading the newspaper.

The first quarter of an hour was pure torture for John. A moribund cat would be better than Sherlock’s screeching tunes and unfocused notes. He endured it stoically.

The next fifteen minutes Sherlock tried to get the most painful tunes out of his instrument. He stopped abruptly when John folded his newspaper and stood up.

“When you’re done testing my patience, please play something pleasant.” He looked at the younger man expectantly.

“Nice alliteration, John.”

“Yes, thank you. Vivaldi would be nice.” He turned to go to the kitchen.  
“Tea?”

“You’re not scolding me?” Sherlock had expected another reaction to his play.

John turned back around looking at his flatmate. Sherlock seemed unsure of himself, fiddling with the strings unconsciously.

“There is no point, is there? You already know what you did was not polite and you chose to do it anyway.”

Sherlock looked down feeling chastised. Deep down he realised how much he craved John’s approval. Feeling not up to par was unsatisfactory and for the first time in his life Sherlock Holmes questioned his choices. 

He started with “Autumn”. Normally he would have started with “Spring” but the tea would be cold if he played all four seasons. Sherlock turned to the window tuning out John cluttering in the kitchen with the kettle.

“Lovely”, John praised as Sherlock finished and sipped his tea. A cup for Sherlock and a plate with a couple of biscuits were sitting next to his chair.

Sherlock sat down and they drank their tea in silence for a while.

“Do you want to talk about it?” John asked after Sherlock had drunken half his cup and eaten three biscuits.

“Only if you insist. I’d rather forget about yesterday as a whole”, Sherlock mumbled and snatched another biscuit. He nibbled at the chocolate chip that was sticking out of one corner and avoided John’s eyes.

“Can you tell me why I slapped your hand?” John put his tea down, while Sherlock rubbed his hand unconsciously at the reminder.

“I was rude.”

“You’re always rude. To Sergeant Donovan, to Anderson…”

“But they deserve it…” Sherlock interrupted heatedly.

“Aha? And…” John prompted. Sherlock slouched back into his chair.

“Lestrade didn’t deserve it. It was inappropriate to say those things about his wife”, Sherlock confirmed dutifully and with a more subdued voice.

“Yes it was. Good. I see you thought about that. Don’t let it happen again.” John picked up his empty tea cup and turned to the kitchen leaving Sherlock to his thoughts.

“John?” Sherlock asked, having followed his flatmate and leaning awkwardly against the doorframe. John turned around watching him silently and raised one eyebrow.

“Will you keep… punishing me?”

“Yes.”

“But…” Sherlock started, having not expected John’s calm and sure answer, but John interrupted him straight away.

“No Sherlock. I had to apologise to our friends, to clients, to strangers and all on your behalf and I’m done with it. You will cease being rude and apologise yourself or I’ll smack you. If you’re disrespectful to Lestrade I will smack you. If you are presumptuous to Molly I will smack you and if you run after murderers without calling the police and without any self-regard to your health I will bend you over and spank your bottom until you can’t sit for a week.”

Sherlock inhaled sharply at the last words.

“You can’t!”

“Try me.” John’s posture showed pure army captain and mentally going through all possibilities, Sherlock could not deduce a single weakness he could exploit. Were he to fight John now he would lose, shamefully.

“Look“, John started after a minute of their stand-off staring, “I know that is difficult for you, but I don’t want you to get hurt.”

He held up a hand stopping Sherlock’s attempt at a protest.

“Hurt harder, than a slap on your wrist or a spanked bottom, I mean. What would happen if Greg decided he had had enough of your attitude and abuse and banned you from his crime scenes?”

“He needs me.”

“Sherlock, he is the best Detective Inspector Scotland Yard has. He indulges you to keep you entertained and because you speed things up, but he is properly capable on his own. NO, he is and you know it.”

Sherlock looked down sulking.

“And what about Molly? The poor girl has had a crush on you since I know her and you belittle her and play with her feelings when it suits you. That’s downright cruel. Do you want to be cruel, Sherlock?”

John looked at his friend expectantly, waiting for the detective to figure it out on his own.

“No.” Sherlock mumbled.

“No, because you are not a cruel person. But sometimes you just don’t think things through and then you hurt the people who care about you.”

“Are you still mad at me?” Sherlock asked, somehow managing to look up to John from somewhere above him.

“No, I’m not,” John huffed exhausted from the difficult topic.

“Would you… hug me? You know, Mummy always hugged me after punishments and I thought… well.”

“Of course, Sherlock. Come here.” He opened his arms and embraced his friend, holding him tight.

“I will always give you a hug if you need one, not just after punishments.”

“Thank you, John.”


	2. Time-out

John was at the surgery, when Sherlock was called to a crime scene. Happily expecting a locked door mystery, Sherlock was bitterly disappointed when the supposed stabbing proved itself to be a clogged chimney and the old lady had fainted because of carbon monoxide poisoning, collapsing into the knife she had gotten from the kitchen to cut the afternoon cake.

After finishing his rant at Anderson for his useless appearance, he turned his ire at the Detective Inspector. Lestrade had kept an eye on Sherlock and John at the last two crime scenes after that special day, when the doctor had taken his partner in hand and had punished his misbehaviour. He had circled the day in his calendar and found the detective improving his behaviour when John was near him. But that obviously didn’t carry on when the good doctor was absent.

After being called useless himself, and the whole of New Scotland Yard a lazy bunch of incompetent dunderheads, Lestrade found he had suffered enough abuse for the day and took a page out of John’s book. Grabbing Sherlock’s upper arm, he turned him around sharply.

“You may stop now, Sherlock. And I will inform John,” he growled at the younger man in front of him, putting some pressure on his arm and then releasing him. The message was clear.

“What?”

Sherlock stopped mid rant, but Lestrade ignored his shocked expression. 

“You understood me, Sherlock,” he said pulling himself to his full height, “I’ve heard quite enough out of you and I will inform John of your abysmal behaviour today. You took longer stropping around than it took you to solve the case, for god’s sake.”

Sherlock was shocked into silence for a second. Lestrade was threatening him with his friend. John would be displeased and he would get a slap on his hand again, something he had managed to avoid for the last three weeks. It hurt not only his hand but his pride as well.

“My apologies”, he said subdued, hoping to discourage the Detective Inspector from talking to John.

“Accepted. But I’m still going to talk to John.”

“If you must”, Sherlock snapped, annoyed that his little ruse hadn’t worked. He straightened his shoulders and stormed out.

\---

Molly placed another cup of coffee next to Sherlock as it was getting later. He hadn’t said a word to her apart from a short greeting and was hunched over his microscope. A couple of slides had wandered from his left to the right in the last four hours but he didn’t seem to make extensive notes as usual, or any, she noticed as he slid another slide under the microscope.

She had learned early on not to interrupt his work if she wanted to avoid being snapped at and to keep out of his way if she didn’t have the time to serve him whatever he demanded. But this behaviour wasn’t normal. Maybe she should call John. Maybe not yet. She still had an hour and a half left until her shift ended. She left the room quietly.

\---

It was getting late, Sherlock noticed, and he really couldn’t keep pretending to be working on something at Bart’s. Nothing on his slides was new to him, nothing had changed. He didn’t even bother writing anything down. And his mind kept slipping back to what awaited him at home as he tidied his workspace. 

“Sherlock?”

Sherlock jumped at John’s voice from the door and stood up facing him, feeling like an errant pupil in front of his headmaster.

“What are you doing?” John came around the tables to have a look at Sherlock’s work.

Sherlock looked between John and his microscope and then sighed.

“Nothing, John.”

“Nothing?” John looked at him strangely. First the angry call from Greg and then the concerned one from Molly about Sherlock’s unusual behaviour gave him quite a good idea what Sherlock was really doing – avoiding his due punishment.

“Sherlock, please answer me truthfully. Are you afraid that I’ll punish you?”

Sherlock sucked in his breath wanting to berate John that he was NOT afraid but he couldn’t.  
John watched him in silence.

“I have never been punished like this before”, Sherlock finally admitted. “I never cared when people called me out on my behaviour or berated me. But I do care now, John. I don’t want you to be mad at me.”

He grimaced at how childish that sounded.

“That day, when you slapped me… it was unexpected. And I realised that you were right and I… was not. And today… well.”

“You were stroppy and Greg chewed you out for it.”

“He always did that. But today he threatened me with calling you and he did. And now you’re mad at me and I didn’t want to come home. I’m sorry, John.”

He held out his hand, palm down for John to smack and closed his eyes. He didn’t want to see it coming.

John put his hand down softly. 

“Come home now, Sherlock. You’ve had yourself in time-out for long enough now.”

He turned to lead Sherlock out, but Sherlock bucked and did not follow.

“John… I need you to punish me. Please. I want to be better. And I know I mess up a lot but please don’t leave.”

“I will never leave you, Sherlock”, John said determined and pulled Sherlock’s barely resisting form into a hug until he relaxed into it.

“Let’s go home now. We can discuss this over take-away.”


End file.
